Isaiah, most likely, although Inardle would not have put it past Eleanon, either.
Whoever, they had conjured up a monster. Inardle had no idea how anyone was going to survive if it hit before they had reached shelter.
She didn’t know what to do. She had wanted to take to the air and flee, but any one among the Lealfast would have shot her down. She wasn’t sure why they hadn’t already, to be honest. Stars alone knew she must stick out like a sore thumb sitting in the back lines on this skittery horse.
The Lealfast had pinned down most of Isaiah’s army under shield cover. As she didn’t know why the Lealfast hadn’t attacked her yet, Inardle also didn’t know why Eleanon hadn’t ordered his fighters to do more than just pummel the army with arrows. Eleanon, as the entire Lealfast, commanded so much magic after their union with the power of Infinity . . . surely they could have broken apart that pitiful shield cover . . .
She gasped aloud when the juit birds rose into the air. It was beautiful, magical and horrifying all at once. No one in the air above them had a chance of avoiding their inexorable rise.
The juit birds were such a solid mass, rising directly upward .
Inardle winced when they hit the Lealfast.
Then Hereward cried out. “Inardle! Kezial’s men!”
Inardle looked.
Kezial’s army had joined with Isaiah’s on its western flank.
The two Isembaardian armies clashed in a spark and ring of swords . . . and almost no deaths, let alone injuries.
At that line where the two armies met, Isembaardians who owed their allegiance to Kezial leaned in to their countrymen who owed their loyalty to Isaiah and whispered in harsh, breathless tones, “We wish to join with you, not fight you!”
To be met with the inevitable chuckle and response, “And we have been told to welcome you, and invite you into Elcho Falling. Here now, wave that sword about a bit. You don’t want that Lealfast lord to think you’re deserting, do you?”
And so, up and down that western line of fighting, men grunted and groaned and clashed swords in desperate battle, and every so often one would fall and roll under the feet of his neighbours.
But, strangely, there was no blood.
Eleanon strode back and forth on the shores of the lake, well back from the fighting. He had just called the Lealfast back — those that were still capable — and now the air overhead was thick with Lealfast streaming toward the mountains where the rest of the Nation waited.
Eleanon was furious, almost incandescent. He should have foreseen this and he hadn’t. Just the simple fact of all those birds rising at the same time .
“Fuck you, Isaiah,” Eleanon muttered. “You may smile today, but tomorrow you will pay.”
Or perhaps even sooner. Eleanon glanced once more at the mayhem. It was very close now, only minutes away. Already the wind was whipping the waters of the lake and the feathers of Eleanon’s wings into violent whorls and eddies. Lightning forked through the roiling clouds.
“You have overplayed your hand there, my friend,” Eleanon muttered. “The birds were enough. No Lealfast was ever going to hang around long enough to be buffeted by that. But you . . . oh, you my friend .”
Eleanon grinned, then it died. He still had one or two things to take care of here, before he, too, could escape.
Axis looked up. The mayhem was now virtually upon them, and all about juit birds were settling back onto the lake water, tucking their heads under their tightly folded wings and curling their bodies into tight pink balls, huddled close together on the water, their long, long legs dangling deep into the lake, acting as stabilisers.
If Axis didn’t move now, he would lose his chance.
Again he risked a look about him. The fighting had all but stopped, and he could see Isaiah in the distance, rousing the men, urging them to flee to the gates.
Axis glanced that way.
They were open, and Axis could see someone gesturing wildly: Georgdi, possibly, although now that the rain was starting to drive down it was difficult to tell.
“Good luck!” Axis shouted at those men about him close enough to hear, then he ran as hard as he could for the lake and dived in.
Isaiah’s army, now merged with that of Kezial’s, surged toward the gates of Elcho Falling. Tens of thousands of men milled about on the shoreline leading to the causeway, thick with fleeing men.
Then, in an almighty and terrifying clap of thunder, the mayhem hit. Men, horses, anything not tied down were bowled over in the tempest. Rain drove down, and intermingled with it were tiny spears of ice that, if they struck a body at the wrong angle, drove deep inside the flesh. Wind shrieked, rendering hearing and voice useless.
Anyone still on their feet could only crouch down and stumble forward, hand on the shoulder or back of whoever it was in front of him.
No one could see a thing.
It suited Eleanon perfectly.
He, like everyone else, was buffeted and pummelled. But, unlike most others, he also had considerable power and resources at his disposal and it was enough to keep him on his feet and still capable of independent movement and action.
He moved toward the gigantic mass of men struggling frantically to get inside Elcho Falling.
It was bleak, darkest night now, hail and ice raining about, yet still Eleanon laughed. He reached the outer edge of the great struggling mass, steadied himself, then reached about behind him and grabbed the woman he’d been dragging all this way.
Ravenna.
Go now, Eleanon whispered in her mind, his voice as cruel as the ice splintering down from the sky. Go now and work my will within Elcho Falling. Go!
Then, without waiting for any answer, he unceremoniously pushed her into the mass of men fighting for entrance into the citadel.
At the same time he activated the enchantment he’d worked on her earlier, making her invisible.
Just until she’d done her task.
Axis had sunk deep into the waters of the lake. He’d risen quickly, but had then to fight his way through the tightly packed bodies of the juit birds in order to get his head above water.
He’d thought he wasn’t going to make it and it was only at the very last moment, when his lungs were on fire, that he’d managed to wedge his head between two juit birds and gasp desperately for air.
He couldn’t see much, but what he could appalled him.
Rain and ice and forks of lightning speared down from the sky. All about, wind howled in great vortexes of destruction. Axis realised that he was actually in one of the most sheltered spots he could possibly be: the bodies of the juit birds protected his head from the worst of the tempest, while the fact that their heavy and tightly packed bodies covered the entire surface of the lake kept it reasonably still.
Axis could see shapes that he assumed were men huddling for shelter on the shoreline, but apart from that . . . nothing.
“Good work, Isaiah,” Axis muttered sarcastically, then apologised to the birds on either side of him as he grabbed a leg in each hand to stabilise himself further.
The birds took no notice of him.
Inardle and Hereward had borne the full force of the mayhem. They’d both been blown off their horses, and by sheer luck Inardle had managed to grab Hereward’s ankle before she was blown away completely.
Inardle had the strength of the Icarii and the blizzard endurance of the Skraelings. With one hand she gripped Hereward’s ankle, and with the other she pulled herself up the woman’s body until she was able to shelter her with her own body and wings.
“Just stay low!” Inardle hissed into Hereward’s ear. “We can’t move from this spot until after the storm has —”
Inardle stopped suddenly.
Something icy and agonising had just sliced into her lower spine.
She let out a low moan that was instantly whipped away in the wind.
“Inardle?” she heard Hereward say, and she felt the woman’s body twist under hers so Hereward could look Inardle in the
face.
Inardle didn’t care. She was aware of little save the splintering fingers digging into her spine.
Hello, sister, Eleanon’s voice said in her mind. Did you think I’d ever forget you?
Inardle screamed. Eleanon’s fingers had somehow managed to dig themselves into her back, then wrap themselves tightly about her spine, crushing it.
“Inardle?” Hereward shouted, unable to understand what was happening.
“Oh, shut up,” Eleanon said, and materialised long enough to dig his other hand into Hereward’s throat, bursting apart the scar the One had left.
Blood spurted forth again. Hereward, her arms and hands trapped under Inardle’s body, could do nothing.
I have a little spot prepared for you, sister, Eleanon said into Inardle’s mind, and then she was screaming helplessly as Eleanon lifted her by her spine into the heart of the mayhem.
Below, Hereward reached for her throat, but before she could wrap her hands about the spurting wound, the wind caught her and she was rolled over and over along the ground, leaving it soaked in her blood as she went.
By the time her body rolled to a stop, she was dead.
Chapter 11
Elcho Falling
The One was completely unaware of the battle and weather raging about Elcho Falling. He stood at the window in the top chamber of the Twisted Tower, his form once more that of a glass man, which form he had constructed from the glass objects within the tower. One hand rested on the window frame, one foot on the low sill, and his other hand extended very slightly in front of his body.
The One’s eyes were closed and his body relaxed despite its somewhat awkward pose.
He was seeking the one being he thought he might still have a chance of contacting within Maximilian’s world.
The Dark Spire.
The One was Infinity; it was the very fabric of his being. The Dark Spire, too, had been woven from strands of Infinity.
There must still be connection between him and it, somewhere.
But, oh, the One had to be careful. Doubtless, Maximilian and Ishbel, and probably even Eleanon, were all congratulating themselves on their sudden freedom from the One. If he did manage to contact the Dark Spire, the One did not want any of them to know of it.
No one.
Not this time.
This time the One was going to take no risk at all.
Every particle of his being was concentrated on this task, although a watcher would not know it from his easy stance. His senses wandered through Infinity, looking for that single strand that would connect him to the Dark Spire. It would be here, somewhere. He just had to find it. Patience. Patience.
Within the confines of the Twisted Tower, lost in those dark spaces between eternity and Infinity, a millennium passed, and still the One did not move.
Then, he found it. A single gossamer strand, a filament so thin and nebulous it almost did not exist, but nevertheless it was there.
The hand the One held slightly extended from his body twitched then grasped, and the One’s eyes flew open.
They were black, wide, staring, and stars revolved within their depths.
Slowly the One drew his hand toward his belly until it connected with the slight depression that passed for a navel in his glassy flesh.
A moment passed, then the One laughed, soft and triumphant, as the strand connecting him to the Dark Spire materialised as a silvery umbilical cord stretching from the One’s belly and out the window of the Twisted Tower until it vanished in the vast emptiness of space and Infinity beyond.
The One felt the soft touch of the existence of the Dark Spire within his flesh. Oh, it was so far away, so far, but the gossamer thread was real enough, and the connection strong enough, for what he needed.
A smile suddenly appearing on his face, the One grasped the gossamer thread between his hands and, without hesitation, stepped through the window of the Twisted Tower into the void.
StarDancer slept peacefully in his mother’s bed. His parents, StarDrifter and Salome, had kept him largely shielded from the events and worries of the rest of Elcho Falling and StarDancer spent his nights and days in gentle contemplation of the intricacies of the Star Dance, and little else. It might have seemed strange that the baby could sleep so solidly through the battle and tempest that raged outside, but, despite his extraordinary Enchanter abilities, StarDancer did sleep solidly for he was still a baby and sleep could conquer most babies, even under extreme circumstances.
StarDancer rarely dreamed in his sleep or, if he did, it was of pleasant things, such as his father’s enchanted singing or the soft comfort of his mother’s breast.
But in this sleep, something reached out and grazed StarDancer’s mind . . . as though something had brushed past him in the midst of his unconsciousness.
He stirred in his sleep, unnoticed by Salome, who stood at the window of the chamber, staring at the events unfolding below.
He dreamed of a man, climbing up a rope arm over arm, body twisting beneath him as he climbed.
Below the man, darkness bulged and bubbled as if it were reaching for the man, or perhaps as if it was angry the man had escaped.
StarDancer felt unceasing threat from this man and, worse, he thought the man had realised his presence. He fought to free himself from the dream, but for long moments could not and in those long moments felt the man’s eyes move about and settle slowly on him.
He awoke, suddenly, as someone who has had cold water dashed in their face. For a long moment he lay still, shaken by his dream vision and the threat that had emanated from the man, then he moved his head and saw his mother turn about in awareness of his wakefulness.
Salome came over, picked him up and cuddled him close, and in his delight at her love, StarDancer pushed to one side the fading memory of the dream. He was safe, now.
Chapter 12
Elcho Falling
Isaiah thought that if there was one thing he’d change in his long existence, it would have been not to have made that foolhardy decision to create the mayhem. Maybe it had worked some good, but mostly it drew havoc down on the people he had least intended — his own army.
About three-quarters of the army finally made their way inside Elcho Falling after hours of tempest. The other quarter were dead or blown away. Isaiah was the last to enter the citadel, clinging to one side of the entrance arch, peering back into the catastrophic storm, trying to see if there was anyone left alive still to come in.
He couldn’t see a thing apart from the blanket of pink juit birds swelling up and down on the lake’s surface. They, at least, looked intact, and Isaiah hoped that Axis, too, was safe in their midst. For a moment he thought about calling out for Axis, suggesting that he abandon his plan and head inside Elcho Falling for safety, but Isaiah doubted he could make either his physical voice or his mental one strong enough to penetrate the mayhem.
He felt something tug on the sleeve of his jerkin and he turned his head.
Georgdi was there, gesturing frantically.
Isaiah sighed and stepped inside Elcho Falling.
Georgdi had the gates shut the instant Isaiah was in.
The sudden silence was astonishing. Isaiah had to stand, blinking, trying to make sense of the absence of the screaming of the wind or the driving of the rain. The initial chamber of Elcho Falling, the columned ground floor, was full of men wet to the bone, dripping both blood and water, and sitting slumped against columns or standing about in dispirited groups.
“We are taking them to their quarters as fast as we are able,” Georgdi said to one side, “and feeding them once they are there. Elcho Falling has provided clothes and warmth for them.”
Isaiah nodded, unable for the moment to speak.
“What happened to those who didn’t make it?” Georgdi said, and Isaiah gave the man a bleak look.
Stupid question.
“Isaiah,” Georgdi said quietly, “what happened with Josia the other day? What was going on?”
�
�Josia was the One,” Isaiah said. “Maximilian needed him distracted while he isolated him within the Twisted Tower. Maximilian —”
“Axis?” a voice called. “Axis?”
“Oh gods,” Isaiah murmured as StarDrifter came striding over.
“Where is my son?” StarDrifter said, glaring at Isaiah as if Isaiah had left him outside intentionally.
“Did no one tell you?” Isaiah said. “Oh, well, Axis decided to stay outside. He thought it better that —”
“Outside in that?” StarDrifter said.
“Yes, outside in that,” Isaiah responded, trying to remember if he had ever liked Axis’ father or not. It was all so long ago, and far too wearying to stretch his mind back. “He is safe enough, StarDrifter.”
“I’ll take you to your chamber,” Georgdi said to Isaiah. “Rest a while, eat. Then we can talk.”
“I —” Isaiah began.
“And I suppose that witch woman has stayed out there with him,” StarDrifter said.
It took a long moment for Isaiah to work out what StarDrifter meant. “Inardle? She isn’t in Elcho Falling?”
“No one has seen her,” Georgdi said. “Only men have come in.”
“There was another woman,” Isaiah said. “Hereward. Thin, dark hair .”
Georgdi shook his head.
“Shetzah,” Isaiah muttered. Had they both been lost?
“Come,” Georgdi said, and Isaiah allowed the man to lead him away, leaving StarDrifter standing glaring at the closed gates.
Outside, the mayhem finally began to abate.
Ravenna stood among the crowd of sodden, exhausted men within the ground floor chamber. She remembered coming here with a thousand or so of Armat’s men, surprising Maximilian, and she looked to the curving staircase almost expecting to see Maximilian in that spot again.
But of course he wasn’t here, now.
Men moved about her, but none acknowledged her. She tried speaking, she even shouted, but none paid her any attention. Their eyes slid over her, their consciousnesses refusing to acknowledge her.
Eleanon had reworked Ishbel’s curse well.
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